


Beside You In Time

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Fluff, M/M, Recovery, Shameless Smut, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: Steve is captured by HYDRA after the altercation with The Winter Soldier on the bridge while the others escape, and is taken to be tortured. But the asset knows him. Heknowshim. And he doesn't know himself, but he knows he can't let Steve die.





	Beside You In Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all my cheerleaders in the CapRBB slack chat and also ediblecrayon for the encouragement. You all rock.
> 
> Title taken from the song of the same name by Nine Inch Nails.

The asset watched as the target was brought into the warehouse. The target looked up and spotted him, looking surprised, and the asset narrowed his eyes. 

He strode up to the men with the target. “Where are his allies?” he asked hoarsely. 

“They escaped,” Rumlow spat, “but we’ve got their precious Captain America now. They'll be demoralized, panicking, trying to figure out how to get him back.” Rumlow grinned evilly. “But when--if--they find him, we'll already have broken him.”

“Bucky, come on, don't you know me?” the target pleaded, and Rumlow backhanded him across the mouth. 

“Shut your mouth, Rogers, and save your breath. I can't wait to make you scream.”

The asset looked at the target curiously. This was the second time he'd called him “Bucky”. The asset didn't know that name, but there was an odd sense of recognition, as if he knew the target. 

Shaking off the feeling, the asset looked at Rumlow. “What are my orders?”

Rumlow shrugged. “You can watch while we break him. You can join in if you like.”

The asset thought for a moment, then shook his head. Torture wasn't really his speciality. He was good with quick deaths--a slit throat, a bullet through the heart or the head--but nothing lingering. It wasn't in his programming. 

Rumlow dragged the bound and struggling target to the middle of the floor, pushed him to his knees, and grinned. “Now, Rogers, I would hate for your clothes to get all dirty.” He motioned to one of the other men, who handed him a pair of scissors. “But I can't untie you, since you're a slippery sonofabitch, so we'll just have to cut these off of you.”

The target began to struggle, but Rumlow punched him hard, making him fall on all fours. The target looked up, blood at the corner of his lip, and glared at Rumlow. 

“You can't hide me forever, Rumlow. I _will_ get out of here, and when I do we're gonna take you and your buddies down.”

“You and what army, Rogers?” Rumlow scoffed. “You honestly think you're getting out of here? We're gonna break you, body and spirit, then you're gonna die knowing that you've failed. Everything you did was for nothing. HYDRA is stronger now than it's ever been, and once Project Insight is complete we will have a new world order. And people like you just won't be a problem any more.”

The target lashed out with his bound feet, taking out one of the men behind him, then rolled out of reach, bringing his bound hands down and over his feet so they were in front of him. He jumped to his feet quickly, but Rumlow was faster, hitting him hard in the stomach with the butt of his rifle, and the target went down. 

“Fuck, Rogers, you just don't listen, do you?” Rumlow asked with a sneer. “You are _never getting out of here alive_. And if you fight it, believe me when I say we can make it a whole lot worse for you.”

“Fuck you,” the target groaned, head bowed. 

“No thanks, you're not my type,” Rumlow retorted. “I'd offer you to our boy here but he probably doesn't know what to do with his dick any more.”

The target looked up at them, anger in his eyes. “I can't wait to see you go down for this, Rumlow.”

“Something I'm realizing about you, Rogers: you're all talk.”

“Why don't you untie me and find out just how much talking I do?”

“Yeah, right. In fact, I think we need to take extra precautions with you.” Rumlow looked up at one of the men. “Get the collar.”

The man left the room, returning a few minutes later with a heavy metal collar and a chain. Rumlow padlocked the collar around the struggling target’s neck, before chaining it to the floor. 

“There. All tied up like the animal you are. Now hold still or I'll fucking stab you with the scissors.”

Rumlow grabbed hold of the target and started to cut off his clothing, down to his underwear, leaving him in boxers and a sleeveless white undershirt. 

“I think we'll leave you here for a while, Rogers. Let you stew in your own juices.” Rumlow glanced back, and the asset met his eyes. “Come on. We don't want him filling your head with a bunch of crap.”

The asset nodded, following Rumlow out the door. They climbed into a van, leaving several men to guard the target, and headed towards the rendezvous. 

Once there, hidden in a deep vault, the asset allowed himself to be stripped to the waist, before being pushed into a chair.

“The man. I know him,” the asset said softly. Some men in long white coats came towards him as he sat there, and one began to fix his arm. As he sat patiently waiting for the man to finish, images raced across his consciousness. Being recovered by the man with glasses, before that falling from a train and the target there shouting, “Bucky, no!” The man in glasses telling him he was to be the fist of HYDRA. His left arm shot out, knocking away the man repairing his arm from the chair, and Rollins pointed his gun towards him as another man, Pierce, came into the vault. 

The man in the white coat stood up and approached Pierce. 

“Sir, he's… he's unstable. Erratic,” the man stuttered, and Pierce pushed past him towards the chair. The asset barely noticed, so caught up was he in thoughts of the target. He was dimly aware of Pierce talking, then suddenly there was pain, sharp and blinding, as Pierce struck him across the face. 

“The man. The target,” the asset said slowly. “Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment,” Pierce said. 

“I knew him.”

Pierce sat down in front of him. “Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped this century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves.”

“But I knew him,” the asset insisted quietly.

Pierce turned to the men in the white coats. “Prep him.”

One of the men in white coats looked at him. “He's been out of cryo-freeze too long.”

“Then wipe him and start over.” Pierce said.

The asset docilely allowed the men in the white coats to strap him to the chair, accepting the teeth shield they pressed between his lips. They switched on the machine, and the asset knew only pain as he began to scream. 

***

The asset blinked his eyes open, and sat still as he'd been taught, awaiting his next orders. His mind was completely clear, and he felt almost peaceful. 

“What shall we do with him, sir?” Rumlow was asking Pierce, and the asset watched them curiously. 

Pierce looked thoughtful. “I think it would be good for him to see us break the captain. Get rid of anything lingering.”

“Sounds good to me,” Rumlow said with a grin, then turned to one of the men in the long white coats. “Get him dressed. We're taking him with us.”

The asset allowed them to dress him, then followed Rumlow out to the van. The men around him were joking and laughing while the asset sat in silence, observing them curiously. 

They arrived at a warehouse that looked vaguely familiar, and trooped indoors. Inside, there were more men standing around with guns, and another man tied up and chained by the neck to the floor. His face was bloody, bruises blooming around his cheekbones and on his bare arms and legs. 

“Who the fuck got started without me?” Rumlow asked, his voice low and dangerous, and the men standing around shuffled uncomfortably. 

“He just got what was coming to him for mouthing off at us,” one of the men said suddenly. 

Rumlow nodded thoughtfully, then lifted his gun and shot the guy in the chest. 

“Rogers is mine,” Rumlow growled at the remaining men. “If I'm not here, as long as he's chained up there you do not touch him, understand?”

The men nodded. 

“Good. Go get a bowl of water and a washcloth,” Rumlow ordered one of the men, and he rushed off. When he returned, Rumlow took the bowl, then smirked, handing it to the asset. 

“You should go clean up his face,” Rumlow told him. 

The asset felt confused--he'd never been asked to do this before--but he also understood the consequences of disobeying orders, and so took the bowl over to the man. 

He tilted the man’s face up, and began to wash the blood off carefully. The man looked up at him through swollen eyes, and his expression changed to one of hope. 

“Bucky, please,” the man pleaded, but the asset ignored him. He didn't know any Bucky. 

The man hissed as the asset wiped across one of the worse bruises, and the asset felt his heart clench. He didn't know this man, but something about him made the asset want to protect him from harm, to care for him. 

“You done yet?” Rumlow called to him. The asset wiped the last of the blood from the corner from the man's mouth and nodded. “Good,” Rumlow continued. “Go sit over there and watch.”

The asset sat on the chair indicated, and watched as Rumlow approached the man. The man knelt up straighter, looking defiantly at Rumlow. 

Rumlow smirked, then raised his hand and backhanded the man, hard enough that the man's head snapped to the side. The man spat out some blood and glared at Rumlow. 

“You're so brave when I'm chained up,” he goaded Rumlow. “Bet you wouldn't take me in hand to hand, coward.”

Rumlow’s eyes narrowed and he kicked the man in the stomach, making him double up. 

“Shut up,Rogers,” Rumlow said angrily. “I'd take you one on one any day. It's just that it's too much fun seeing you chained up like a dog.”

“Riiiight,” the man drawled, coughing. “It has nothing to do with the fact that if I wasn't tied up I'd beat you without any problems.”

“You need to watch your mouth,” Rumlow gritted out, then stamped on the man's right hand. The asset heard the sickening crunch of bone, but the man didn't make a sound; he just winced a little. The asset found himself impressed by the man. He was certainly brave; Rumlow wasn't the kind of guy you'd want to fuck with, yet this guy didn't seem to care. 

“Asset. Come here,” Rumlow said suddenly, and the asset did as he was told. “Look at him. You know him?”

The asset shook his head, and the man's face fell. 

“Bucky, _please_ ,” he pleaded. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the asset asked, his voice rough, and Rumlow smiled darkly. 

“Bucky's dead, Rogers. He's been dead since 1945. This guy right here? He's the fist of HYDRA. He's a future shaper.” Rumlow clapped the asset on the shoulder, and the asset tensed. 

“Buck, come on, don't you know me? It's me, it's Steve, your best friend,” the man said softly, and Rumlow backhanded him again as the asset felt a stab of… of something, right in his chest. It might have been recognition, or something else. 

“You had enough, yet, Rogers?” Rumlow said snidely, and the man looked up at him defiantly, stretching the fingers of his right hand. 

“I could do this all day,” he replied, and the asset saw another man, a smaller man, in a back alley standing up against two men almost twice his size. The vision was brief, but it was enough to make him take a step back. 

Rumlow looked at him curiously. “What's the matter?”

The asset shook his head. He knew the penalty for stepping out of line. “Nothing,” he said quietly. Rumlow looked at him for a moment, suspicious, but then shrugged. 

“Whatever.” He turned back to the man on the floor and smirked. “Get the whip,” he instructed one of the guards. While the guard was gone, Rumlow took up the scissors again and cut the undershirt off the man on the floor, revealing a bruised but well muscled torso. The guard returned a few moments later with a metal tipped bullwhip. Rumlow held it up to the man on the floor, allowing him a good, long look. “Still feeling brave, Rogers?”

The man spat on Rumlow's boots. “Fuck you.”

“Tsk tsk, language, Cap! A good, wholesome boy like you shouldn't be using those kinds of words.”

The asset blinked, hearing a voice in the back of his mind that was both familiar and strange, saying “C’mon, Buck, hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late,” and he shook his head to clear it. 

Meanwhile, Rumlow was walking in circles around the man on the floor. He paused a few feet behind him, then cracked the whip against the man's back. The asset saw a red line form, blood dripping down, and looked at the man's face curiously. His eyes were closed, and he was biting his lip, but he hadn't cried out. 

Rumlow grinned, then pulled the whip back again and let it fly. This time it hit the man on the floor right across his shoulder blade, but still he made no noise, and the asset wondered. 

Rumlow continued to whip him, leaving enough time between strikes to cause optimal pain. The man continued to bear it in silence, until one of the strikes whipped right across his left kidney. 

The man cried out in pain, yelling out, “You sonofabitch, Rumlow, I'm gonna see you locked up for the rest of your natural life.”

Rumlow simply laughed. “And yet you're the one who's gonna be pissing blood for a week, Rogers. Come on, you might as well admit defeat now. I might even go easy on you.”

“I will see HYDRA defeated,” the man said firmly. “It and you are gonna go down, and I'm gonna watch it happen.”

Rumlow shook his head. “Ever the martyr. Oh well.”

He whipped the man on the floor again, and again, until his whole back was a mess of blood, then Rumlow paused, rolling his shoulder. 

“My arm is getting tired. Asset, clean him up. He heals pretty quick, so hopefully his wounds will heal quick enough that we can have some more fun with him.”

The asset nodded and fetched the bowl again, kneeling behind the man and carefully tending his wounds. The man hissed as he worked, the bloody water running down and staining the man's boxers a deep rust color. 

“Buck,” the man murmured, quietly enough that the asset had to strain to hear him. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky Barnes, and you're my best friend. I'm Steve Rogers; you know me, we've known each other since we were kids.”

The asset looked at him curiously, staring into his deep blue eyes as he washed the man's face, and suddenly the asset saw him reaching down, while the asset reached up, trying to grab hold of his hand before falling as the man screamed, “Bucky, no!”

The asset recoiled, staring down at the man. “I… I know you,” he murmured, and the man smiled through bloody lips. 

“Hell yeah, you do.”

“Who are you?” The asset paused. “Who am I?”

He saw Rumlow glance over and kept wiping away the blood, pretending to be focused on the task at hand. 

“I'm Steve, and you're Bucky, and we need to get out of here.”

“I'm the asset,” he muttered. “You're the enemy.”

“I'm not your enemy, pal. I'm your friend, and I'm with you ‘til the end of the line.”

The asset looked in shock at the man--at Steve--as the words echoed around his brain. He knew those words. He'd said those words, but when?

“You done?” Rumlow asked suddenly, and the asset nodded, feeling numb. “Well, then, get back over there. I'm gonna have some more fun.”

Rumlow stood over Steve and tilted his head up. Steve looked back, anger written all over his face, and the asset suddenly realized why Steve was chained to the floor. Even beaten, bloody and bruised this man was dangerous. 

Rumlow let go of Steve's face and kicked out, foot connecting with Steve's ribs. Steve winced as he doubled over, but righted himself again quickly, eyes narrowed. 

“You're not gonna break me, Rumlow. Like I said, I could do this all day.”

“Yeah, so you keep saying. You're like a broken fucking record, Rogers, you know that?” Rumlow jeered, before kicking him again. This time the asset heard something crack--probably Steve's ribs. Steve looked over at him, and the asset felt as though his brain was splitting in half, orders from HYDRA warring with his own instinct to save Steve from Rumlow. 

The asset walked over to one of the guards, and nodded at him. The guard looked at him, disdain written all over his face. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he spat, and the asset shrugged, standing beside him. 

Before anyone could even blink, the asset pulled out his knife and stabbed the guard in the neck, grabbing his gun. The other guards began to yell. It made the asset’s head hurt. They began to fire at him, but he used the dead guard as a shield, firing at the other guards from behind him. He took them all down quickly, then turned to Rumlow. 

“Asset! Stand down!” Rumlow yelled, and the asset felt the order pressing against his mind. But he was too far gone for that. He threw his knife at Rumlow's face, getting him in the eye, and Rumlow went down. The asset walked quickly over to where Steve was lying and looked at the chain. He grabbed hold of it with his left hand and ripped it from its moorings, then untied Steve's arms and feet. 

Steve stood, slowly, pain written all over his face. 

“Bucky?”

“I don't know any Bucky,” the asset said roughly. “We need to move, now.”

Something flashed across Steve's features--regret, or perhaps sadness--but he nodded and followed the asset out towards the exit. He took down three more guards as they went, and as soon as they were outside he bundled Steve into the van and jumped into the driver’s seat, speeding off. 

“Where is safe?” he asked gruffly. 

“Nowhere,” Steve said with a helpless laugh. “Nowhere is safe.”

The asset drove them out of the city, until they found a gas station. 

“There's a pay phone,” the asset told Steve. “Make one call, make it quickly, then we find another route back. They'll be monitoring the phones.”

Steve nodded, then looked down at himself. “Uh, I'm kinda mostly naked?”

The asset looked at him blankly. “There's tac gear in the back.”

Steve nodded and headed out to the back of the van, emerging a few moments later in tac gear. He went over to the pay phone and the asset watched him make a call, then hurry back to the van. The asset nodded at him, and sped off again. 

“Where to?”

“The Smithsonian. At least, I think that's what she meant by my local brooding spot.”

“That's too open.”

Steve shrugged. “Better than somewhere remote where we'll be obvious.”

The asset nodded, and they drove together to the Smithsonian. As soon as they parked, the asset spotted a red-headed woman accompanied by an almost familiar-looking man running over. They jumped into the back of the van and the asset pulled away. 

The hatch at the back of the driver’s cab opened, and suddenly there was a gun pointed to his head. 

“What the fuck, Rogers?” the redhead asked, pressing the gun against his temple. “You brought the Winter Soldier?”

“It's Bucky. The Winter Soldier is Bucky. He rescued me from Rumlow and his cronies and we escaped together.”

“I told you, I don't know any Bucky,” the asset said, and Steve gave him a long look. 

“Then why did you save me?”

The asset paused, then shrugged. “I know you.”

Steve smiled at him. “Yeah. You know me.”

“I don't trust him,” the woman said. 

“Natasha, he rescued me, okay? Let that be enough for now.”

“Where are we going?” the asset interrupted. They didn't have time for this or they were going to get caught. 

Natasha looked at Steve, then sighed. “Okay, you take a left at the next junction…”

Following Natasha's directions, the asset drove them to a facility under a dam. As soon as he was out of the vehicle, the woman was pressing a gun against his back. 

“You know I could disarm you easily,” he said. 

“Just try it,” came another woman's voice. A dark haired woman approached them, pointing her gun straight at his head. 

The asset looked at her. “I didn't say I would. I said I could.”

“What is he doing here?” the dark haired woman asked Steve. 

“He rescued me from Rumlow.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “The Winter Soldier rescued you? I don't believe it.”

“Well, believe it. Maria, he's my friend. He's Sergeant Bucky Barnes. We've been friends since we were kids.”

The asset closed his eyes, seeing a playground with big kids surrounding a small, skinny blond kid with fists upraised, ready to take them all on, no sign of fear on his finely featured face. He opened his eyes and looked at Steve. 

“Steve,” he said cautiously. “You were… you were small. On the playground. You were smaller.”

Steve smiled wide. “That's right. I was. That's where we met, remember? You saved me from getting beaten up, and we've been friends ever since.”

The asset frowned. “There was… was there a train? Did I fall?”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly, his face twisting into an expression of regret. “You fell and I couldn't save you, and they--HYDRA--must have found you.”

Steve stepped towards him, but his legs buckled underneath him and he only just managed to steady himself on the hood of the van. 

“I think he might have a broken hand and broken ribs,” the asset told Maria. “He also has various other injuries that need seen to.”

Maria nodded sharply, then glanced at Natasha. “Keep your gun on him. I don't want him to suddenly decide he's here to finish his mission.”

They locked him in a small room, and he sat quietly on the bed as the door closed behind him. 

“I'll be back for you, Buck, I swear,” Steve said quietly as they led him off. 

***

Sitting there in the dim light of the room, the asset closed his eyes as flashes--memories--flew across his eyelids. Playing hopscotch with Steve on the school playground. Visiting Steve when he was sick. Going with Steve to his apartment after his mom’s funeral. His mom. Sarah Rogers. 

Suddenly he heard a voice in his mind, yelling, “Bucky Barnes, what is this mess all over my living kitchen floor!” and another, young boy’s voice, replying, “I'm sorry, ma, we were trying to bake cookies!” and the asset gasped. 

Ma. 

His ma. 

He could see her in his mind, standing next to a man--his pop--and a young girl. It was mere seconds before his brain recognized her as his sister, Becca. 

A cacophony of voices, each one saying the same thing: “Bucky Barnes! Bucky Barnes! Bucky Barnes!” over and over and over until he wanted to scream. 

Then: silence. The voices went away as suddenly as they had started, and he opened his eyes. There was a mirror on the wall and he stood, looking at his reflection. 

Long hair. A stumbled jaw. Blue-grey eyes looking back at him. He rubbed his hand over his face, flashing back to an image of a young, clean shaven man with short hair. 

Bucky Barnes. 

It was him. 

He remembered, but the memories were hazy and disjointed. He remembered Steve, he remembered his family, he remembered bits and pieces but nothing whole, nothing to tell him who he was. 

Though god knew what he had become. 

He ran to the small toilet in the corner and vomited, the force of it making tears stream down his face. If he was Steve's friend, then why had he been on the side that had tortured Steve? And why couldn't he remember?

The machine. 

He remembered the machine they would put him in, and afterwards he'd be blank. He remembered Pierce, remembered him saying, “Wipe him,” and he knew, suddenly, what they'd done. They'd taken his memories; taken everything from him. They'd taken Steve from him. 

Rage like nothing he'd ever known filled him, and he let out a scream that echoed around the walls of the room. He wanted to kill the men who had done this to him, who had ripped him apart and put him back together again different so they could bend him to their will. 

Steve called him Bucky, Natasha called him the Winter Soldier, but he knew he wasn't either; he was somewhere in between. 

He wanted to be Bucky again. 

“Steve!” he yelled, hot tears welling up in his eyes. “Steve!”

The tears began to fall as he dropped to his knees, head buried in his hands as he began to sob. 

The door opened and suddenly arms were wrapping around him, a familiar voice in his ear. 

“Hush, Buck, it's okay. It's all okay now. You're free. You're okay.”

He pulled back, looking at Steve through tear-swollen eyes. “I'm not okay. I don't know who I am, except that I'm a monster.”

“You're not a monster. You're Bucky Barnes, and you're my friend. Don't you remember, Buck?”

He shrugged. “I don't… I remember you.”

Steve smiled at him softly. “Well, that's a start. You'll remember more as time goes on.”

“How do you know?”

Steve looked at him steadily. “I believe it. I have to believe it. I've just got you back, Buck. I'm not gonna lose you again.” He frowned, looking at his watch. “I gotta go. We're gonna take down HYDRA once and for all.”

“Steve, no, you're injured, you can't--”

“We're on a race against time, Buck. We can't afford to wait. This has to end now.”

“Let me help,” he pleaded, but Steve shook his head. 

“I'm sorry, Buck. I asked them and they won't let you come. But I'll come back to get you and we're gonna start over, okay?”

“Okay. Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Stay safe.”

Steve smiled at him as he looked back from the doorway. “I'll come back. I promise.”

***

There was a small bed in the corner and he curled up on it, sleeping fitfully as he waited on Steve to return. He dreamed of the people he'd killed, waking up in tears every time. He knew he'd never be free of the guilt of what he'd done--what they'd made him do. 

Finally, hours later, the door opened and there stood Steve in his uniform; a little bruised and bloody but otherwise seeming unharmed. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said softly, and he stood, rushing towards Steve and flinging his arms around him. 

“You did it?”

“Yeah. Project Insight has been sabotaged and all the records from SHIELD and HYDRA have been released to the public. Pierce is dead.” Steve sighed. “We lost a lot of good men and women today, but hopefully now HYDRA has been struck a death blow. There's a bunch of cleanup to do, but hopefully this is the beginning of the end.”

“Yeah.” He paused, looking Steve in the eye. “How long do I have to stay here?”

Steve smiled. “You don't. You're coming home with me. I've got an uncomfortable sofa bed and no food in the refrigerator, but I've got plenty of beer and lots of take out numbers.”

“Are you sure? I don't want to--”

“Buck. You're staying with me and that's that, okay?” He nodded shyly, and Steve grinned. “But first--man, we've gotta get into civilian clothes because I'm gross and you're… well, you're pretty conspicuous.”

“Okay.”

***

After changing into some civilian clothes, they travelled together to New York City. Steve was quiet most of the way, but occasionally turned to him and smiled reassuringly. 

When they reached a large apartment block, Steve parked the car and led him up several flights of stairs. 

Steve's apartment was small, but cosy, and he looked around, smiling. 

“I like your place,” he said softly, and Steve looked delighted. 

“Thanks, man. So, you tired? Hungry? You wanna eat or do you wanna sleep first?”

He suddenly realized that the pain in his stomach was hunger. “Uh, hungry?”

“Awesome. What do you want to eat? Pizza, Chinese food, whatever.”

“I… I don't know.”

Steve looked at him, his gaze sympathetic. “I remember you always liked Totonno’s pizza. We'll order from there.”

The pizza, when it came, was hot and delicious. They ate it washed down with cold beer, and it was so strangely familiar he felt like crying. 

“We'll take you out to get more clothes tomorrow,” Steve promised him, and he nodded around his mouthful of pizza. 

***

Steve's sofa bed was, as he'd said, extremely uncomfortable, but he didn't care. Knowing Steve was nearby was enough. When he slept, he dreamed of his victims, or flashes of his life before, and woke up each time in a cold sweat. 

When dawn broke, he lay awake, listening to the sounds of the city outside until Steve came through, yawning. 

“Morning, Buck. How did you sleep?”

He shrugged as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Okay, I guess. I had a lot of dreams. Nightmares. Memories, really.”

“You okay?”

He frowned, looking at his bare feet. “I don't know. I don't really feel like I'm Bucky, you know? I don't really feel like anyone but a murderer.”

“Hey.” Steve sat next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You're not a murderer. They brainwashed you. You would never have done those things if they hadn't made you do them. And as for not feeling like Bucky…” Steve sighed. “Hopefully that'll come. I guess you just have to be patient.”

“I just want to know who I am,” he said softly. 

Steve squeezed his shoulders. “You're my best friend. You'll always be my best friend. God, Buck, I thought you were dead all these years, and now I have you back, and…” Steve trailed off, voice cracking, and when he looked up he saw tears in Steve's eyes. “I'm just so glad you're alive. But I'm sorry you've suffered so much.”

“I'll be okay,” he said, unsure of the truth of it but wanting to comfort Steve. 

“I know you will, Buck.” Steve clapped him on the shoulder and stood. “Come on. You can shower first. I'll get you a towel.”

He stood under the spray, looking down at his naked body for the first time for as long as he could remember. There were various scars in various places, and he touched each one, remembering how he got them. 

When he was satisfied that he was clean, he climbed out and dried himself thoroughly, then tied the towel around his waist. As he left the bathroom, he almost bumped into Steve, who was carrying a pile of clothes. 

“Uh, here. The underwear is new, and the rest is stuff that should fit you,” Steve said quickly, eyes trained on his face. 

“Thanks, Steve,” he said quietly, and Steve smiled. 

“You're welcome. Okay, I'm gonna go shower, then we'll head out and get some breakfast.”

By the time Steve came back through, he was dressed, but had been unable to untangle his long hair. He said as much to Steve, who smiled. 

“Come here, Buck,” he said with a laugh, sitting on the armchair and patting the floor in front of him. He sat down at Steve's feet as Steve took out a comb and began to comb out the tangles. He felt like purring as Steve ran the comb, then his fingers, through his hair. 

When he had finished, Steve patted him on the shoulder. “That better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve.”

“No problem.” 

As Steve smiled at him, everything clicked into place, and he gasped. 

“Buck, what is it?”

“I'm… I'm Bucky,” he stammered, before bursting into sobs. Steve wrapped him up in a tight hug, holding him until he calmed. 

“You are. You're Bucky, and you're my best friend, and no one is ever gonna separate us again.”

Bucky clung to Steve for a few moments, then pulled back, wiping his eyes. 

“Sorry.”

Steve shook his head. “No apologies. You've been through a hell of a lot. I get it. I do.”

“I know,” Bucky managed with a watery smile. 

“Come on,” Steve said, standing. “I'm thinking waffles and coffee.”

Bucky laughed, and Steve's smile widened. 

***

The waffles were amazing. Bucky drowned his in syrup, and washed them down with cup upon cup of strong black coffee. 

Afterwards, they went back to Steve's apartment, and Bucky stopped when he saw the redhead, Natasha, waiting outside the door. 

“Hey, Natasha,” Steve said cheerfully. “What's up?”

“You brought him home?” she asked, eyebrows raised. 

Bucky stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Uh, hey. I'm Bucky.”

Natasha’s eyes widened as she looked at his outstretched hand, before shaking it slowly. “Natasha. Romanoff. You tried to kill me.”

Bucky's face fell. “I'm so sorry. I didn't… it wasn't me. They brainwashed me--tortured me into obedience. If I'd known what I was doing I would never have--”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“Okay. I believe you.” Natasha looked at him curiously. “How much do you remember?”

Bucky shrugged. “Enough. I remember all the people I killed, and I remember Steve. Everything else is just… flashes.”

“Hmm,” Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting.” She looked at Steve. “So are we going inside or are we just gonna hang out in the hallway all day?”

Steve rolled his eyes and unlocked the door, and the three of them trooped inside.

Natasha stayed only an hour, catching them up on the latest news. Once she had gone, Steve stretched out his legs and sighed. 

“Fuck. It never ends,” he said with a sigh, before kicking the bottom of Bucky's foot gently. “Hey. You okay?”

“I guess. I'm just confused about everything? But I guess it'll all fall into place eventually.” He looked questioningly at Steve. “So… how come you're pretty much the same age as when I saw you last?”

“Uh, well, that's kind of a long story.”

“I've got time.”

So Steve told him everything: the tesseract, crashing the plane, waking up in the twenty first century and having to deal with the tesseract and alien robots after two weeks out the ice, all of it. Bucky listened to the tale, astonished, and shook his head when Steve had finished. 

“That's… that was a lot to deal with when you hadn't had that much time to recover,” Bucky said softly, and Steve shrugged. 

“It could have been worse, I guess.”

“Could it? I mean… Norse gods? Alien robots? A nuclear weapon? Sounds pretty fucking bad to me, Steve.”

“Yeah, maybe. But,” Steve added, smiling, “I've got you back now, so things could definitely be worse. Come on, we'd better go get you some more clothes.”

“Steve, I don't have any money?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I have plenty of that, Buck. Don't worry about it.”

Feeling embarrassed but pathetically grateful to his friend, Bucky followed Steve out the door. 

By the time they returned, Bucky had new pants, jeans, an array of tops, some jackets and sneakers, and plenty underwear. 

“You should give me a fashion show,” Steve joked when they got back to the apartment, and Bucky punched him gently on the shoulder. 

“You little punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve said, smiling, and Bucky grinned. 

***

That night, Bucky had another nightmare, this one playing out clearly. Riding a motorcycle down a deserted road, his mission clear. Get the serum. No witnesses. “Sergeant Barnes?” and a woman screaming, “Howard! Howard!” before killing her too…

Bucky woke, gasping, and jumped out of bed, padding quickly through to Steve's bedroom. He sat on the side of Steve's bed, shaking his friend awake. 

“Buck? Whazzit?” Steve asked muzzily. 

“Steve. It's Howard. Howard Stark. I think--no, I know--I killed him. And a woman. I think it was his wife.”

Steve sat up, looking wide awake now. “What?”

“He knew me. Recognized me. Called me Sergeant Barnes. And I… Steve, I killed them both.”

“Why?”

Because I was ordered to. Because they wanted the serum.”

“What serum?”

Bucky took a deep breath. “Steve, I'm. I'm not the only winter soldier.”

“What?” Steve was fully awake now, staring at Bucky in the half light. “Buck, if that's true…”

“It's true. They were kept in cryo because there was a riot and they killed a bunch of the HYDRA handlers, but they're still there. In Siberia, where I was kept. At least, I hope they are.”

“Who were they?”

“HYDRA’s elite death squad. More kills than anyone else in HYDRA history. That was before the serum.”

“Shit.” Steve looked at him searchingly. “And you're sure it was Howard Stark?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Oh god, Steve, he was our _friend_...”

“Buck, calm down. We'll deal with this all tomorrow, but right now we both need some sleep.” Steve paused. “You wanna bunk in with me tonight?”

“Are… are you sure?”

Steve smiled slightly. “Do you still snore?”

“Fuck you, Steve, I don't snore,” Bucky said with a laugh. 

“Yeah, well, I'll believe that when I see it. Come on. Hop in.”

Bucky climbed under the covers, curling up into a ball facing Steve. 

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Sleep well, Buck.”

Bucky closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep. 

***

When he awoke, it was light, and his head was lying on something firmer than a pillow. He opened his eyes, only to realize that his pillow was actually Steve's chest. He sat up and looked down at Steve, who gazed back at him, his expression open and happy. 

“Morning, Buck,” he said quietly, and Bucky…

Bucky _remembered_. 

Smiling, he leaned down and kissed Steve softly. Steve kissed him back, then pushed him away. 

“Buck…” he began, and Bucky's face fell. 

“Oh, god, Steve, I'm sorry. I thought I remembered--”

“You remembered just fine,” Steve interrupted him with a smile. “But I don't want us to rush things, you know? Not while you're still getting your memory--your identity--back.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay, but…” He leaned down, until he was nose to nose with Steve. “I really want to kiss you.”

Steve grinned at him, lifting his head to capture Bucky's lips with his own, and it was like coming home. Memories flooded in: kissing for hours on Steve's sofa, until their lips were swollen and numb; their first time together, Steve nervous and inexperienced, Bucky nervous because it was _Steve_ ; stolen kisses in their tents on the battlefield; their last time together before Bucky fell from the train…

Steve pulled back, wiping away the tears on Bucky's cheeks that he'd not realized had begun to fall. 

“What's wrong?” Steve asked, and Bucky smiled. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

***

Steve called a meeting of the Avengers to give them the intel on the other Winter Soldiers, leaving Bucky alone in his apartment. Bucky amused himself by reading; Steve had a decent number of books, and Bucky picked up _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ , a book he remembered from his childhood. He lost himself in the story, and barely noticed the time passing. 

This was how Steve found him when he returned: curled up in the armchair, nose buried in the book. He looked up to see Steve smiling fondly down at him. 

“Good book?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky showed him the cover, and Steve nodded. 

“We used to read that when we were kids and always talked about going on an adventure. Do you remember?” Bucky shook his head, and Steve shrugged. “It doesn't matter. But I guess both of us got more than we bargained for, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, except when ordering and eating dinner. Steve ordered them Chinese food, and Bucky ate hungrily, moaning around each mouthful. 

“This is so good!” he said after the just few tastes, and Steve smiled at him. 

“Glad you like it.”

“Are you kidding? I love it. It's not like I've eaten anything particularly tasty for a few years.” Bucky shrugged as he took another mouthful. “Mostly they fed me intravenously.”

“Jesus, Buck.” Steve looked horrified. “They did what to you? Those bastards.”

“Steve, it's okay,” Bucky said soothingly. “I mean, yeah, it wasn't great, but I'm out of it now so it's fine.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Hmm.”

When bedtime came, Bucky began to fold out the sofa, but Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Come on,” he said, taking Bucky's hand and leading him through to the bedroom. They both stripped down to their boxers and climbed into bed. Steve leaned over, kissing him gently. 

“Goodnight, Buck.”

Bucky smiled. “Goodnight, Steve.” He briefly considered keeping his distance, but he craved comfort, so snuggled into Steve's side, lying his head on Steve's chest. Steve kissed the top of his head, wrapping his arms around Bucky's back, as Bucky listened to the strong, steady sound of Steve's heart. 

If he dreamed, he didn't remember it.

***

It was strange, getting into the swing of living a relatively normal life again. It was like relearning to walk, or talk; the muscle memory was there somewhere, it was just accessing those memories. 

After a couple of weeks, Steve sat him down. 

“I need to ask you something,” he said slowly, “and you're perfectly entitled to say no.”

“Steve, what is it?”

Steve sighed. “We--the Avengers--want to neutralize the threat of the other winter soldiers before they become an issue. But we need to know where the base is in Siberia.”

“I can take you there,” Bucky said, smiling despite the nausea. 

Steve looked at him searchingly. “Buck, you don't have to come. I know this will be hard for you--”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted him, “I want to. I think I maybe need to.”

“If you're sure?”

Bucky nodded, swallowing. “I'm sure.” He paused. “Who's gonna be there?”

“Everyone.”

“Including… including Howard’s boy?”

“Tony too.”

Bucky closed his eyes. “I don't know if I can face him. Knowing what I did--”

“Buck, you can't say anything about that. Not a thing. This isn't something Tony ever needs to know, okay?”

“It feels like lying. It feels wrong.”

Steve’s mouth twisted. “Please, Buck. Just trust me, okay? We'll maybe tell him one day, but not now. Just not now.”

“Okay,” Bucky replied, his mouth dry. 

Steve gave him a long look, then pulled him in for a bruising kiss. 

“When do we leave?” Bucky asked. 

Steve smiled weakly. “Pretty much now?” He paused, looking sheepish. “I figured you'd probably want to come, so I got you some tac gear on the off chance.”

“Oh.” Bucky grinned. “It's like you know me, Rogers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said with a laugh. “You ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be.”

They rode Steve's motorcycle to Avengers Tower, and Steve took his hand as they stood in the elevator, squeezing it reassuringly. When the elevator stopped, Steve didn't let go, leading him into an area that looked like a fancy bar. 

There were a few raised eyebrows from the group at their joined hands, but Steve ignored them all as he introduced Bucky around. Bucky tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. 

Natasha approached him, smiling. “How are you doing, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged. “I have good days and some not-so-good days.”

“I'll bet,” she said, nodding sympathetically. “You sure you're okay to do this?”

“I'm sure.” He wasn't, not really, but he knew he had to exorcise these demons somehow. 

“Okay, everyone, suit up,” Steve said loudly, and the group stood. “You come with me,” Steve told Bucky, and they went together to another room, where Steve's suit was hanging along with some black tac gear. 

They changed quickly, then met the others again in the bar before heading up together to the quinjet. 

The ride to Siberia was long, and Bucky fell asleep on Steve's shoulder. He awoke some time later to Steve shaking him. 

“We're almost there, Buck.”

Bucky tensed, everything in him screaming to turn back, and not to go back into that place. But he steeled himself, taking deep breaths. 

The quinjet landed a few feet from the facility, and they stood to go. 

“Hey Barnes?” Natasha called from behind him, and when he turned she threw a gun into his arms. He looked down, and raised his eyebrows. 

“Nice.” He'd always liked a good machine gun, and the M249E2 SAW Para was decent. 

“You sure it's a good idea giving him a gun?” Tony asked snidely, and Natasha pushed his shoulder. 

“He might need it, and we might need him.”

They arrived at the large metal doors, and Bucky typed in the keycode from memory. 

“You know where you're going, Barnes?” Clint asked in a low voice, and Bucky nodded. 

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I know where I'm going.”

They walked through the maze of corridors, weapons raised, until they reached the cryo room. Bucky only just managed to suppress a shudder, uniformly bad memories flooding him. Then he felt Steve's hand on his shoulder, comforting, and he took a deep breath. 

The other winter soldiers were still in their cryo units, looking bizarrely peaceful. Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. No one had woken them yet, which was good. 

“Do we take them in, or…?” Bruce asked. 

Bucky's reply was to lift his gun and shoot the first one in the forehead. He heard some gasps from behind him, and turned to the others. 

“You want them to live? Do you have any idea of the damage they could cause if they broke out of whatever prison you could dream up for them?” he asked hoarsely. “I can't take that chance. And neither can you.”

Natasha nodded, lifting her own gun and shooting one of the others in the head. The others watched as the two of them went around, killing each one. 

When they were all dead, Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Can we get out of here now?” he asked Steve, who nodded. 

“Yeah. Come on, guys. Let's go.”

Bucky found himself unable to sleep on the way back, too many bad memories pressing at his consciousness. He had hoped that by facing his past, he'd be able to rid himself of some of the nightmares, but it seemed to have just brought more. 

“I'm sorry,” Steve whispered in his ear, and Bucky grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing. 

By the time they got home, Bucky was exhausted. All he wanted to do was curl up in bed, but Steve made him eat first as they hadn't eaten for about ten hours. Stomachs pleasantly full, they relaxed in front of an old movie for an hour, snuggled together on the sofa, before making their way to bed. 

The first time Bucky woke up screaming that night was not going to be the last. After the third time, Steve pulled Bucky in against him, Bucky's head on his chest. 

“How can I help, Buck? What can I do?”

Bucky's eyes filled with tears. “I don't think there's anything you can do,” he said, sniffing. “I think I'm just broken.”

“Hey, hey, don't say that. Don't even think it, okay?” Steve said, wiping Bucky's tears with his thumb. “You've been through a hell of a lot, and today was pretty traumatic for you. This reaction is perfectly normal.”

“I just hate that I can't function like a normal human!” Bucky burst out, and Steve kissed him softly. 

“You think I can? I'm faking it most of the time, and I've not been through half the trauma that you have. Do you think…” Steve frowned. “I know a guy. Runs a group session for vets. Do you think you should maybe go into counselling? Talk to someone about what happened to you?”

Bucky squirmed a little. “I don't know if I'm ready for that yet,” he said quietly. 

Steve kissed him again. “Well, if you ever feel like you are, we'll find you someone, okay? But until then, you're safe here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Not now I've got you back.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, nodding. “Can you just… can you just hold me? Like this?”

“Of course, Buck. Whatever you want.”

Bucky fought sleep for as long as he could, but at length he heard Steve's breathing deepen and he was soon lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

***

Bucky knew that he wouldn't recover all at once, but as time went on he found himself increasingly distancing himself from the horrors of his time under HYDRA’s control. He knew he could never atone for the things he'd done, but thanks to Steve he was beginning to realize that maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe he wasn't to blame for those atrocities. 

Two weeks after their trip to Siberia, he and Steve were horsing around on the sofa, wrestling for the remote. Bucky ended up straddling Steve, remote held high above his head. 

“Victory!” he crowed, looking down at Steve, who was looking back fondly. Bucky couldn't help himself--he had to lean down and kiss him. 

The kiss quickly grew heated, and Bucky could feel Steve pulling away. He shook his head, pressing closer so Steve could feel his hardening cock. 

“Buck, are you sure?” Steve asked hoarsely, and Bucky nodded. 

“I want you, Steve. I think we've both waited long enough. I just want to get back to living a normal life.”

Steve smiled up at him. “Okay. But we're not doing this here.”

Bucky stood, and Steve led him through to the bedroom. They stripped each other slowly, kissing as much as they could, and when they were finally naked, Steve grasped Bucky's ass, pulling their hips together and rubbing his finger against Bucky's asshole, making him moan with pleasure. 

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve murmured against his lips, and Bucky gasped. 

“Want you to fuck me, wanna feel you inside me, fuck, Steve, please!”

Steve kissed him again, before going over to the bed. Bucky climbed on after him, lying beside him and drawing him in for more kisses. 

“How long has it been for you?” Bucky asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

Steve simply smiled. “Not since you.”

“Same,” Bucky said softly as Steve began to kiss his neck. “There's been no one since you.”

Their lips met again, and Steve began to stroke Bucky's cock, making him moan into Steve's mouth. 

Bucky grasped Steve's cock, stroking slowly and swiping his thumb over the head, and Steve gasped, drawing back. He rummaged around in the drawer of the bedside cabinet for a few moments, before emerging with a half empty bottle of lube. 

Bucky looked at him questioningly, and Steve blushed. 

“I said I hadn't been with anyone. I never said I didn't get off.”

Bucky pulled him into a deep kiss, stroking him again. “That is so hot. Did you finger yourself open?”

“Mmm, yeah. I'd touch my cock while I fingered my own asshole--get myself off like that.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky groaned. “I wanna see that some time.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, pouring some lube over his fingers and spreading it around. “You wanna see me fingering my ass, getting myself off?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Hmm, okay. Right now I'm gonna finger you and suck you, how does that sound?”

Bucky let out a short laugh as Steve began to rub at his asshole with slick fingers. “Fuck, Steve, that sounds fucking great.”

“Good,” Steve murmured, and took the head of Bucky's cock into his mouth as he pushed the first finger inside. The dual sensations made Bucky whine, as memories came flooding back of doing this with Steve a hundred times, back when he was smaller, then in their tents during the war after Steve had rescued him that first time. 

Despite the lack of practice, Steve hadn't lost his skill with his mouth, and Bucky was hard pushed not to just thrust down that warm, welcoming throat. Steve was jerking the base of his cock with his left hand as he sucked, and when he added a second finger and began to rub at Bucky's prostate Bucky cried out so loudly he figured the whole apartment block probably heard him. 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying not to let the sensations overwhelm him, but had to open them again quickly as he loved to watch Steve suck him. Steve’s brow was furrowed with concentration as he licked and sucked. Bucky reached down, running his fingers through Steve's hair, and Steve smiled up at him around his mouthful. 

By the time Steve added a third finger, Bucky was moaning almost constantly, feeling as though his muscles had turned to jello. Steve was making him feel so good, and soon he was going to have Steve's gorgeous cock inside of him for the first time in forever. The thought of it made him bite his lip, and as Steve sucked Bucky's balls into his mouth Bucky cried out. 

“Fuck, Steve, I'm ready. Want your cock in me now.”

Steve lifted his mouth off Bucky's balls, placing a kiss on the head of his cock as he moved up the bed to kiss Bucky deeply. 

“You sure?” he asked, and Bucky nodded. 

“Yeah. Want to feel you inside of me.”

Steve smiled at him and carefully withdrew his fingers, then covered his cock in the lube and lined himself up. Then he was pushing forward, eyes never leaving Bucky's face, and Bucky's head tilted back as the feeling of blunt pressure nearly overwhelmed him. 

When he felt Steve's hips meet his ass he exhaled noisily, and Steve leaned down to kiss him. 

After a few moments, Bucky felt his muscles relax enough to nod. “You can move now,” he said quietly, and Steve nodded, fucking Bucky slowly and gently. 

They moved together like that for what felt like hours, losing themselves in it, kissing until their lips were swollen. But then Steve shifted his hips slightly, hitting that spot inside Bucky, and Bucky gasped, starting to fuck himself hard on Steve's cock. Steve got the message pretty quick and started to fuck him hard and fast, cock brushing against Bucky's prostate on each thrust. Bucky felt like he was about to lose his mind with pleasure and began to stroke himself in time with Steve's thrusts. 

“Yeah, that's it Buck, you close?” Steve asked, panting, and Bucky nodded. 

“Yeah, I'm close.”

“Then come for me, Buck. Come for me.”

Bucky felt pleasure shoot through him as his cock jerked in his hand and he came all over himself, come hitting his chin. Steve kept fucking him through it, then, “OhgodfuckBucky!” his hips stilled as he came deep inside Bucky's ass. 

Bucky brought his left hand up to swipe his hair out of his eyes, grinning up at Steve, who smiled back. Then Steve was pulling out and collapsing into the bed beside him, pulling him in for a deep kiss. 

“That was definitely worth the wait,” Steve murmured, and Bucky nodded. 

They lay together in silence for a few moments, catching their breath as sweat and come cooled on their skin, then Bucky took a deep breath. 

“Hey, Steve?”

“Mhm?” Steve answered, pressing a kiss to the side of Bucky's head. 

“I, uh. I love you,” Bucky said, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

Steve tilted his head up, smiling delightedly. “God, I love you too, Buck. So much.”

“Oh,” Bucky said slowly, relief coursing through him. “You do?”

“Of course I do. You're Bucky. I'll always love you.”

Bucky smirked. “You're such a sap, Rogers.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Ruin the moment, why don't you, Buck! I'm pouring my heart out here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky kissed Steve's chest, wrapping his left arm around Steve's waist. Things weren't perfect, and he was going to take a lot of time to heal, but he knew he'd get there. 

With Steve's help, he could get through anything


End file.
